Chapter Text
The sun over the Italian coast is starting to hit that blinding, late-afternoon slant, casting a harsh glare over the water. It’s 3:00 PM. They’ve been sitting on this exact, completely deserted stretch of sand since yesterday night.
Sae hasn’t moved. Not to stretch, not to get food, and definitely not to explain why he suddenly turned up in Germany, practically hijacked Kaiser away from the National Team training camp, and dragged him across the border to an empty beach in Italy.
Kaiser is officially past his limit. He sits a few feet away, brushing sand off his pristine training gear, glaring at Sae with absolute disdain. If looks could kill, Sae would have been buried under the tide hours ago.
"Hey," Kaiser finally snaps, his voice sharp and dripping with irritation. "Are you planning on rotting here, or are you going to tell me why the genius Itoshi Sae is acting like a stray dog?"
Sae doesn’t even blink. He just stares out at the horizon, his expression completely blank, though the absolute exhaustion in his posture gives him away.
Eight years.
Eight years of a low-profile, long-distance, completely consuming existence with Vivian Hugo. It had started when they were practically kids, two prodigies navigating the European youth systems, sharing an unspoken understanding of what it took to stand at the top of the world. Hugo with his pristine, calculated "suitable destiny" philosophy, and Sae with his cold, beautiful, mechanical midfield mastery. They were supposed to be the ultimate blueprint.
And now, at twenty-two, it’s just over. The thread finally snapped.
"You're pathetic," Kaiser sneers, standing up and towering over Sae, shadowing him from the sun. "You drag me away from my national training, fly me to a different country, and force me to sit in the dirt just so you can mourn the Frenchman? If I wanted to watch someone ruin their career over a breakup, I would’ve stayed in Madrid and watched the tabloids."
Sae finally shifts, his gaze slowly moving from the waves up to Kaiser. His eyes are dead, devoid of their usual biting arrogance. "Shut up, Mihya."
"Make me," Kaiser scoffs, crossing his arms and looking down his nose. "We're teammates now. I didn't sign with Real Madrid to watch my midfielder turn into a ghost because a New Gen XI center-midfielder decided your 'destinies' didn't align anymore. If you're going to break, do it on your own time. I have a World Cup to win, and I need a passer, not a corpse."
Sae lets out a short, hollow breath that might have been a laugh in another life. He reaches out, grabs a handful of sand, and lets it slip through his fingers. He doesn't want to go back to Spain. He doesn't want to go back to Japan. He just wants the clock to stop ticking.
Kaiser rolls his eyes, letting out a loud, dramatic sigh of pure annoyance, though he doesn't actually walk away toward the road. "Fine. You get until the sun hits the water. Then I'm dragging you back to the airport by your hair, whether you're over him or not."
***
The Twitter timeline immediately goes into absolute meltdown. Kaiser’s tweet drops like a bomb, and within minutes, the Blue Lock community and European football fans are violently refreshing their feeds.
Here is how the chaos unfolds on the screen:
Michael Kaiser @MichaelKaiser · 2m
I'm not the one who broken heart, why did i have to find myself on this beach at this hour
💬 1.2K 🔁 4.5K ❤️ 18K
Don Lorenzo @DonLorenzo_U20 · 1m
this you ?
[Attached: A heavily pixelated, extremely zoomed-in photo taken from a distance. You can barely make out Kaiser’s distinct blue-tipped hair and Sae’s slouched, unmistakable silhouette sitting side-by-side on the empty Italian sand.]
💬 480 🔁 1.1K ❤️ 9.8K
Michael Kaiser @MichaelKaiser · 45s
@DonLorenzo_U20 the fuck ? did you stalk me ?
Don Lorenzo @DonLorenzo_U20 · 30s
@MichaelKaiser you are literally in my country you suck. Im the one who should ask why the fuck both of you there
Michael Kaiser @MichaelKaiser · 12s
@DonLorenzo_U20 some fucker got broken heart and kidnapped me when im have training in german
The sharp ping of Kaiser's phone notifications is the only sound breaking the rush of the waves. Kaiser glares at his screen, his thumb flying across the keyboard with pure venom before he shoves the phone right in front of Sae’s face.
"Look at this," Kaiser hisses, his voice dangerously low. "Look at what your little mid-life crisis is doing to my reputation. The zombie with the gold teeth is tracking us down like a bloodhound because you couldn't pick a beach outside of Italy."
Sae slowly blinks, his eyes tracking the blurry photo of his own back on Kaiser's screen. He doesn't even have the energy to look annoyed that Lorenzo just broadcasted his misery to millions of football fans.
"Tell him to delete it," Sae says quietly, his voice raspy from hours of salt air and silence.
"Oh, sure, because Don Lorenzo is famous for listening to reasonable requests," Kaiser snaps. "The entire internet is currently calculating which 'fucker' broke your heart, Sae. If Hugo sees this, he's going to think I'm your rebound babysitter. Move. Now. We are leaving before Lorenzo actually drives down here with a shovel."
The Twitter thread is mutating into a full-blown international football soap opera in real-time. The notifications are rolling in so fast Kaiser’s phone is practically vibrating itself right out of his hand.
Don Lorenzo @DonLorenzo_U20 · 45s
@MichaelKaiser what ? Japan grumpy cat have heart ? What happened to him? He does look like he got kicked out by his family
💬 890 🔁 2.3K ❤️ 14K
Michael Kaiser @MichaelKaiser · 30s
@DonLorenzo_U20 just got broken up after 8 years being stupidly dating some shitty person.
💬 1.5K 🔁 5.1K ❤️ 22K
Don Lorenzo @DonLorenzo_U20 · 20s
@MichaelKaiser 8 YEARS ? I DIDNT KNOW HE IS DATING SOMEONE
💬 2.1K 🔁 6.4K ❤️ 28K
Michael Kaiser @MichaelKaiser · 5s
@DonLorenzo_U20 well unfortunately this person beside me date someone who thing “people didnt need to know about us, as long as we knew about each other feeling”. Bullshit if you asked me
"You are a loudmouth," Sae muttered, his voice dropping an octave, laced with a sudden, dangerous chill. He finally looked up from the horizon, his dull eyes locking onto Kaiser with a flicker of his usual lethal irritation. Hearing his and Hugo’s private, eight-year philosophy summarized as "bullshit" by Michael Kaiser on a public timeline was the first thing that had actually pierced through his numbness.
"I'm a realist," Kaiser shot back, not looking remotely apologetic. "Eight years in the dark just for him to hand you a 'suitable destiny' speech and walk away? Please. If a New Gen XI player is going to waste my prime training hours sitting on a public beach, the world deserves to know the comedy behind it."
Sae didn't reply, but his jaw clenched tight enough to crack. That phrase—as long as we knew about each other's feelings—had been their ironclad rule since they were fourteen-year-old kids trying to survive the grueling European youth academies. Hugo had wanted to protect their focus, to keep the media from dissecting their bond before they even reached the senior stage. And Sae, fiercely private by nature, had agreed.
Kaiser lets out a harsh, mocking laugh that echoes over the crashing waves. He shoves his phone away, completely turning on Sae now, his irritation boiling over into full-blown aggression.
"You are a pathetic, delusional idiot, Sae!" Kaiser shouts, gesturing wildly between Sae and the open ocean. "Eight years? You call whatever the hell you two had dating? Don’t make me laugh!"
"Shut your mouth, Mihya," Sae snaps, his voice dropping into a low, lethal hiss. His hands clench into fists in the sand, his knuckles turning white. "You don't know anything about how we worked. It kept us focused. We didn't need the media circus ruining what we had."
"Oh, please! You’re still trying to defend him?" Kaiser sneers, stepping right into Sae’s space, his blue eyes flashing with malicious clarity. "Let’s look at the actual facts, genius. You lived in Spain. He lived in England. You spent eleven months out of the year running on different schedules, in different time zones, playing for different clubs. When did you actually see him? A couple of rushed weekends during international breaks? A hidden week in the off-season where you couldn't even walk down the street together without him throwing a fit about 'privacy'?"
Sae opens his mouth to fire back, but Kaiser cuts him off ruthlessly, dropping the facts like a heavy tactical press.
"Think about it logically," Kaiser presses, his voice dropping into a sharp, mocking cadence. "You couldn't hold hands in public. You couldn't take a single damn photo together. You couldn't go to a normal restaurant without booking a private room like you were committing a crime. If you can’t even exist in the real world together, it’s not a relationship, Sae. It’s a long-distance pen-pal arrangement with benefits."
Sae flinches, the word pen-pal hitting him harder than any slide tackle ever could. He tries to find the words to argue—to explain the quiet, late-night phone calls, the shared understanding of the pressure they carried, the way Hugo’s calm demeanor used to steady his chaotic mind.
"He was protecting our careers," Sae says, but even to his own ears, the defense sounds hollow, stripped of its weight.
"He was protecting himself," Kaiser corrects sharply, crossing his arms and looking down at Sae with absolute, brutal candor. "He kept you hidden away in a neat little box labeled 'private life' so it wouldn't interfere with his perfect, calculated little 'destiny.' And the moment that box got too heavy or stopped fitting into his grand football plan, he just walked away and left you with nothing. No public history, no shared memories that anyone else can verify—nothing. He erased eight years of your life with a single conversation, and you let him do it because you were too blind to see you were the only one playing by his rules."
The silence that follows is suffocating. The tide rolls in, washing over the edges of Sae's sneakers, but he doesn't even pull his feet back. Kaiser’s words are vicious, cruel, and dripping with arrogance—but every single one of them is logically irrefutable.
Sae stares down at his hands, the realization sinking in like lead. He had given his entire youth, from fourteen to twenty-two, to a ghost story. And now, the book was closed, leaving him sitting in the dirt while the rest of the world moved on.
Don Lorenzo @DonLorenzo_U20 · 1m
@MichaelKaiser well maybe they are private person ?
💬 980 🔁 1.8K ❤️ 12K
Michael Kaiser @MichaelKaiser · 45s
@DonLorenzo_U20 THEY ARE LIVING IN DIFFERENT COUNTRIES. WHY THEY NEED TO BE PRIVATE LIKE THAT WHEN THEY RARELY MEET AND HOLD YOUR PARTNER HANDS OR DATE LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE HUH
💬 2.4K 🔁 7.2K ❤️ 31K
Don Lorenzo @DonLorenzo_U20 · 30s
@MichaelKaiser well damn now thats problem. It is bullshit. If im dating for 8 years and still like that, im gonna have problem with him
💬 3.1K 🔁 8.9K ❤️ 42K
Michael Kaiser @MichaelKaiser · 15s
@DonLorenzo_U20 SEE! YOU AGREE WITH ME RIGHT NOW? BRING YOU ASS HERE, WE NEED TO GIVE THIS DENIAL FUCKER REALITY CHECK
Don Lorenzo @DonLorenzo_U20 · 5s
@MichaelKaiser well, im actually behind you now HAHAHAHA
The Twitter notifications stop entirely because, suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps crunching on the dry sand echoes from the dunes behind them.
Kaiser’s thumb freezes over his screen. Sae doesn't even move his head, his posture rigid as a shadow falls completely over the two of them.
"Yo, Micha! You look like absolute trash out here!"
Kaiser snaps his head around, his jaw dropping as Lorenzo stands there, wearing a ridiculously loud, oversized button-up shirt and a massive, mocking grin that shows off his gold teeth. He’s holding his phone in one hand and waving lazily with the other, completely unbothered by the tense atmosphere.
"What the fuck—" Kaiser starts, shoving his phone into his pocket. "How did you actually get here that fast?!"
"I told you, it's my country! I was already driving nearby when I saw your pathetic tweet," Lorenzo cackles, walking right past Kaiser and squatting down directly in front of Sae, leaning in way too close to inspect the midfielder's face. "Wow. Look at him. The genius Itoshi Sae is completely broken. He looks like a stray cat that got soaked in the rain."
Sae slowly raises his head, his dead eyes locking onto Lorenzo with pure, unadulterated venom. "Get out of my face, Lorenzo, before I break your legs."
"Ooh, still got some bite!" Lorenzo laughs, standing back up and crossing his arms, looking down at Sae alongside Kaiser. But then his expression shifts, the mocking grin fading into something surprisingly blunt. "But seriously, Japan boy. Kaiser is a loudmouth bastard, but he’s right. Eight years across the border and you couldn’t even buy him a gelato in public? That's not a romance, that's a secret government mission. Even my money feels more real than that relationship."
"See?!" Kaiser yells, gesturing wildly at Lorenzo. "Even the zombie understands basic human logic! You were running a solo marathon for eight years while Hugo was playing a completely different sport, Sae!"
Sae clenches his jaw so hard it throbs, caught between the two best players of the New Generation XI tag-teaming his psyche on a deserted beach. He wants to argue, he wants to kick both of them into the ocean, but the sheer weight of their combined, brutal logic is slowly suffocating the last of his denial.
Lorenzo blinks, his gold teeth catching the late afternoon sun as his face contorts into genuine, uncharacteristic shock. He looks from Sae to Kaiser, then back down to Sae, his jaw practically dropping.
"Wait, wait, wait," Lorenzo stammers, waving his hands to pause the universe. "Hugo? As in Vivian Hugo? The France guy who acts like he’s a philosopher king? The one who looks at everyone like they’re just pieces on a chessboard?"
"The very same," Kaiser sneers, crossing his arms.
"Holy shit," Lorenzo breathes, genuinely staggered. "I’m surprised you were dating anyone, Japan boy, but I’m even more surprised Hugo can date someone. That guy doesn't have blood in his veins, he has blueprints. What the hell actually happened? Why did a robot and a grumpy cat break up after eight years?"
The mention of Hugo's name—spoken aloud by someone completely outside their private bubble—seems to crack the last remaining pillars of Sae’s composure.
Silence stretches over the beach. For three full minutes, the only sound is the rhythmic, heavy crashing of the tide. Kaiser actually stops pacing. Lorenzo stops grinning. They both watch as Sae’s shoulders slowly begin to tremble. The cold, untouchable Itoshi Sae finally collapses inward, burying his face in his hands as eight years of tightly wound composure completely breaks down.
When he finally speaks, his voice is raw, stripped of all arrogance, cracking under the weight of the story.
"We met when we were fourteen," Sae mutters into his hands, his voice shaking before he forces himself to look out at the water. "Before the world knew who we were. I was trying to survive in Spain, completely isolated. He was in the youth system in France. We crossed paths at an international youth tournament in Madrid."
Sae lets out a ragged breath. "He wasn't the arrogant New Gen XI player. He was just... quiet. Calm. He didn't care about the noise, and neither did I. We understood the pressure without having to explain it. The very first night we talked, he told me that people didn't need to know about us, as long as we knew about each other’s feelings. He said the media would twist it, use it against us, make us lose our focus. I agreed. I wanted it that way."
"So you hid," Kaiser says, his voice surprisingly quiet for once.
"We hid," Sae nods, a tear finally cutting through the dried salt on his cheek. "For eight years, that was the rule. When we moved to our senior clubs, it got harder. I stayed in Madrid. He went to England to play for Arsenaly. The distance became an ocean. We lived on schedules, text messages, and late-night calls when both of our bodies were broken from training."
Sae cleanses his throat, his chest heaving. "Every time I asked to see him, to just fly over for a normal dinner, he’d bring up his philosophy. 'Aptitude is destiny, Sae. Our destiny right now is to conquer Europe. Don't let temporary desires ruin the permanent goal.' And I believed him. I thought he was being strong for both of us. When we did meet, it was in empty hotel rooms booked under fake names. No public walks. No shared photos. If I took a picture of him on my phone, he’d gently make me delete it, saying it was a liability if my phone ever got hacked."
Lorenzo winces, shifting his weight. "Damn, kid. That’s... that’s heavy."
"I spent my entire youth, from fourteen to twenty-two, waiting for the day we’d finally be old enough, established enough, to just stand together in the light," Sae chokes out, a bitter, sobbing laugh escaping his throat. "And then, two days ago, we met up in Paris during the break."
Sae’s fists clench so hard his nails dig into his palms. "I told him I couldn't do the secrecy anymore. I told him we were twenty-two, we were New Gen XI, we were adults. I wanted a normal life with him. I wanted to move into an apartment together in the off-season."
"And what did the philosopher say?" Kaiser asks, his eyes narrowed.
"He looked at me," Sae says, his voice dropping into a dead, hollow whisper. "He looked at me with those calm, analytical eyes, pulled out that completely blank book he always carries, and closed it. Then he said... he said our capacities had diverged. He told me his ego was entirely focused on shaping strikers and winning four World Cups, and that maintaining a hidden, long-distance relationship was no longer an efficient use of his mental energy. He said, 'Our aptitude as a couple has reached its natural limit, Sae. Fighting it is a useless struggle. Live your destiny, and let me live mine.'"
Sae looks up at Kaiser and Lorenzo, his eyes completely bloodshot, tears streaming down his face. "He didn't even cry. He just packed his bag, told me he appreciated the eight years for keeping him grounded during his development, and walked out of the room. He erased me. He erased eight years like it was a bad tactical draft. And I realization... Kaiser was right. I was the only one actually in a relationship. To him, I was just a well-timed phase."
The silence that settles over the beach is deafening. The only sound is the rhythmic, heavy crash of the tide and Sae’s ragged, shallow breathing.
For the first time since they arrived, Kaiser is completely speechless. His arms drop to his sides, his chest rising and falling as he stares down at Sae. The arrogant smirk is entirely gone, replaced by a dark, dangerous scowl.
Lorenzo stays crouched in front of Sae, his body completely still. The loud, mocking energy he arrived with evaporates into the salty air.
"That piece of absolute shit," Kaiser finally spits out, his voice dropping into a low, lethal register that vibrates with genuine fury. He doesn't just sound annoyed anymore; he sounds personally insulted. "An efficient use of his mental energy? A phase? Who the fuck does he think he is, writing you off like a bad stat sheet?"
Kaiser takes a sharp step forward, kicking a spray of sand toward the ocean. "I thought he was just a detached, arrogant bastard on the pitch, but this? That’s not a philosophy, Sae. That’s pure, calculated cowardice. He used your loyalty as a security blanket while he built his pristine little career, and the second you asked for a single shred of real, human commitment, he hid behind his textbook phrases and ran away."
Lorenzo slowly stands up to his full height, his gold teeth completely hidden as his mouth sets into a hard line. He looks over at Kaiser, then down at Sae’s trembling shoulders.
"Yo," Lorenzo says, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, stripped of all its usual theatricality. "I like money, Japan boy. I like contracts, and I like assets. But even I know you can’t put a budget on eight years of a person's life. To look someone in the eye after that long and call it a 'natural limit'..." Lorenzo shakes his head, a rare flash of genuine disgust crossing his face. "That guy isn't a human being. He’s a parasite dressed in a designer kit."
Lorenzo walks over, his heavy footsteps sinking into the sand, and places a massive, calloused hand right on top of Sae’s head, unceremoniously ruffing his neat hair like he's dealing with a stray animal.
"You suck at picking partners, grumpty cat," Lorenzo says bluntly, though the gesture is surprisingly grounded. "But you don't sit in the dirt for a guy who treats you like an expired contract. It makes my teeth hurt just looking at you like this."
Kaiser storms back over, grabbing Sae roughly by the shoulder of his jacket and pulling him upward. He doesn't let him slouch back down.
"Stand up, Sae," Kaiser commands, his blue eyes flashing with a cold, intense fire. "You are Itoshi Sae. You are the midfield engine of Real Madrid. I didn't demand the club sign you just so you could drown yourself in the Italian sand over a Frenchman who doesn't even have the courage to hold your hand in public."
Kaiser shoves his phone back into Sae's face, pointing aggressively at the Twitter notification count, which is now climbing into the hundreds of thousands.
"Look at this," Kaiser demands, his voice cracking like a whip. "The whole world is watching us. Lorenzo’s right behind me, and the internet is losing its mind. We are leaving this beach. You are coming back to Madrid, you are getting on the pitch, and the next time we face Arsenaly or the France U-20s, we are going to absolutely dismantle his perfect, calculated 'destiny' until there’s nothing left of his blank book but scraps. If he wants efficiency, we'll show him exactly how efficient we can be at destroying him."
Lorenzo looks between the two of them, his calloused hand dropping from Sae’s head as his expression shifts from disgust to pure, bewildered curiosity. He tilts his head, his gold teeth glinting as he points a finger at Sae.
"Wait, so..." Lorenzo scratches the back of his neck. "Did anyone else actually know you two were a thing? Or was it literally just the two of you living in a secret bunker for eight years?"
Sae wipes the back of his hand across his eyes, trying to force his usual stoic mask back into place, though his voice still sounds hollow. "No one. We swore we wouldn't tell anyone. Not our clubs, not the media, not our teammates. It was an absolute rule."
"Not even your creepy little brother?" Kaiser interjects, his voice dripping with disbelief. "The one who acts like your shadow? He didn't know?"
Sae shakes his head rigidly. "Rin didn't know anything. I didn't want him involved in my private life. The only people who ever saw us together were hotel staff who were paid enough to lose their memories."
Lorenzo lets out a sharp whistle, blowing his hair out of his face. "Damn. So to the rest of the world, you were just two New Gen XI players who occasionally traded jerseys after a match. That is insane."
"It's worse than insane—it's pathetic," Kaiser snarls, his anger flaring right back up. He steps into the space between Sae and the water, towering over him again. "Don't you see what he did, Sae? By keeping it completely dark, he made sure there were absolutely no consequences for him when he decided to pull the plug. If the media knew, he’d have to answer questions. If his club knew, it would be a public narrative. But this? He got to play the part of the devoted partner in the dark, and now he walks away completely clean, while you're sitting on a beach in Italy looking like a drowned rat."
Kaiser shoves his phone forward again, checking the timeline, which is absolutely spiraling out of control from their public exchange.
"Well, the secret's out of the bag now," Kaiser says with a dark, viciously satisfied smirk. "Lorenzo’s photo is already going viral, and I just told the entire internet that you got your heart broken by a 'shitty person' after eight years. The world is going to connect the dots sooner or later."
***
The social media wildfire doesn't stop at the Italian border. Over in France, the French National Team training camp is in full swing, and it takes exactly twenty minutes for the viral Twitter thread to reach the senior players.
Julian Loki is sitting on a bench in the locker room, his jersey soaked with sweat after an intense tactical drill. He’s scrolling through his phone, his eyes widening slightly as he reads Kaiser’s aggressive replies and zeroes in on Lorenzo’s blurry, pixelated photo of the two Madrid players sitting on the sand.
A few lockers down, Vivian Hugo is sitting perfectly upright, entirely unbothered by the post-training exhaustion around him. He is holding his signature blank book, staring down at a completely white page, cleanly sketching out a spatial grid for France's next U-20 match.
Loki looks from his screen to Hugo, a thoughtful, calculating look crossing his face.
"Hey, Hugo," Loki calls out, his voice sharp but casual as he walks over, tapping the screen of his phone. "Have you seen the internet today? The Madrid camp is having a bit of a meltdown in Italy."
Hugo doesn't lift his head immediately. He finishes drawing a pristine straight line across the paper before calmly raising his almond-shaped eyes. "I don't dedicate my time to Michael Kaiser’s public tantrums, Loki. It isn't an efficient use of energy."
"Usually, I'd agree," Loki says, tossing the phone onto the bench next to Hugo so the screen is completely visible. "But Lorenzo just leaked a photo of Sae Itoshi practically rotting on a beach, and Kaiser is claiming Sae just got dumped after an eight-year secret relationship. Since you're also New Gen XI... do you know anything about this 'shitty person' Kaiser is blasting?"
Hugo’s gaze drops to the screen. His eyes lock onto the pixelated silhouette of Sae’s slouched back, sitting right next to Kaiser’s distinct blue-tipped hair. For a fraction of a second, the mechanical precision of Hugo’s fingers tightens against the spine of his book.
Then, his face goes entirely smooth, his voice remaining as cool and level as a winter morning.
"I have no insight into Itoshi Sae's private affairs," Hugo says smoothly, closing the blank book with a soft, clean thud. "But if he is allowing a personal transition to disrupt his training with Real Madrid, then his capacity to maintain his status at the top is lower than I initially calculated."
Loki narrows his eyes, his world-class striker instincts picking up on the absolute lack of surprise in Hugo's tone. "You're not even curious? Eight years is a long time for a ghost story. Kaiser’s post makes it sound like whoever did it completely erased him."
"Aptitude dictates destiny, Julian," Hugo replies, standing up and smoothing down his French training kit, his expression entirely impenetrable. "If a relationship has reached its natural limit, fighting it is a useless struggle. Itoshi Sae is a genius midfielder; he will either adapt to his new reality, or he will be left behind. The universe doesn't halt its rotation for a broken heart."
Hugo walks past Loki toward the showers, his posture towering and pristine. But back on the bench, Loki watches him go, his eyes dropping back to the Twitter thread where Kaiser is currently threatening to dismantle anyone standing in Madrid's way.
Loki lets out a low, intrigued hum. "A natural limit, huh..."
***
The Italian night rolls in, bringing a cool coastal breeze that finally replaces the stifling heat of the afternoon. Despite Kaiser's aggressive threats to drag Sae to the airport by his hair, nobody actually moved. Instead, the transition from day to night happened right there on the deserted sand.
By midnight, the dynamic on the beach has devolved into pure, unadulterated absurdity—and true to form, Don Lorenzo isn't about to let the moment pass without updating the timeline.
Don Lorenzo @DonLorenzo_U20 · 2m
family vacation with the madrid boys. grumpy cat brought sunglasses to a night sky viewing 🤌🇮🇹
[Attached: A high-angle selfie taken by Lorenzo. The three of them are lying flat on their backs on the dark sand, looking up at the stars. Lorenzo is closest to the camera, throwing up a peace sign and grinning wildly with his gold teeth fully on display. Next to him, Kaiser is aggressively chewing on a slice of authentic Italian street pizza Lorenzo brought, looking thoroughly annoyed but eating anyway. On the far side, Sae is lying perfectly still, wearing pitch-black designer sunglasses in the dead of night, his expression completely blank and unreadable.]
💬 5.8K 🔁 14K ❤️ 85K
Michael Kaiser @MichaelKaiser · 1m
@DonLorenzo_U20 delete this right now you subhuman. i look like a hostage.
Don Lorenzo @DonLorenzo_U20 · 45s
@MichaelKaiser you ate three slices michael you are literally a guest in my home
The flash from Lorenzo's phone camera briefly illuminates the dark shoreline, leaving blue spots in Kaiser’s vision.
"Lorenzo, I am going to genuinely choke you," Kaiser barks, coughing slightly on a piece of crust as he sits up, wiping sand off his face. "You just posted me eating street food like a commoner next to a guy wearing sunglasses at midnight. My brand value is actively plummeting because of you."
"Ah, stop complaining, Kaiser! The internet loves it," Lorenzo cackles, tossing the empty pizza box aside and propping himself up on his elbows. He looks over at Sae, who hasn't moved a single muscle since the photo was taken. The black lenses of his sunglasses perfectly reflect the pale moonlight. "Yo, Japan boy. You alive under there? Or did your brain completely short-circuit?"
Sae doesn't turn his head. His voice comes out low, flat, and entirely monotone from behind the dark lenses. "The stars are too bright."
Kaiser lets out a loud, dramatic groan, throwing his hands in the air. "It's pitch black outside, Sae! You're wearing those stupid things because you've been crying for thirty hours and you don't want the Madrid board to see your swollen eyelids when they check Lorenzo's feed."
"Shut up, Mihya," Sae mutters softly.
"He speaks!" Lorenzo laughs, kicking a bit of sand at Sae’s sneakers. "See? The pizza healed him. A few more hours of looking at the Italian sky and he'll be ready to go back to Spain and play grid-football again."
The cool night air handles the silence for a moment, the sound of the ocean waves lapping at the shore filling the space between them. Sae doesn't move. He keeps his black sunglasses firmly over his eyes, staring straight up at the stars, but his jaw is tight.
"Do you think..." Sae’s voice cuts through the dark, quiet and strained, still desperately reaching for a lifeline. "Do you think he's thinking about me right now? At all?"
Kaiser stops chewing his pizza crust, his eyes narrowing in the dark.
"We were together for eight years," Sae pushes on, his voice pitching slightly higher as the denial claws its way back up his throat. "Well... okay, fine. We never had intimacy. We never did what normal couples do. But we did sleep calls. Every single day. No matter what country we were in, we stayed on the line until we fell asleep. That counts as a private moment, right? That has to mean something to him."
"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Kaiser explodes, sitting straight up in the sand, his temper snapping instantly. He throws the rest of his food back into the box. "Sleep calls? Sleep calls, Sae?! You're a New Gen XI player, a grown-ass twenty-two-year-old man, and you're out here defending an eight-year relationship using the logic of a middle schooler! He kept you at a digital distance so he didn't have to deal with a real human being in his space, and you’re treating it like it’s a sacred bond! He's not thinking about you, he's probably drafting his next tactical chart!"
"Micha, shut up, you're being too loud," Lorenzo cuts in, his voice surprisingly level. He doesn't laugh this time, and for once, he doesn't use his usual mocking tone. He sits up, dusting the sand off his hands, and looks down at Sae without a single insult.
"Look, Japan boy," Lorenzo says, his gold teeth barely catching the moonlight as he speaks calmly. "I'm not going to yell at you. But think about it from the outside. A guy like Hugo, he's all about control. A phone call is easy to control. You can hang up when you're tired, you can turn off the camera when you don't want to be seen, and you can keep your life perfectly neat. Those calls meant something to you because you were putting your real feelings into them."
Lorenzo sighs, looking out at the dark horizon. "Did he think about you? Yeah, probably. You don't pick up the phone every day for eight years if you don't care at all. But the way he thinks about you isn't the way you want him to. To him, those daily calls were probably just a routine that kept him balanced while he climbed to the top. It was safe for him because it didn't require him to change his day-to-day life or compromise his 'destiny' for you."
Sae lies perfectly still under the dark sky, the lenses of his glasses hiding the fresh glaze of tears in his eyes. Lorenzo’s words hit entirely different than Kaiser’s aggressive shouting. They don't make him want to fight back; they just make the cold reality sink in completely.
"A routine," Sae repeats, the word tasting like ash in his mouth.
"Yeah," Lorenzo says quietly, leaning back on one palm. "A routine he decided he didn't need anymore once the U-20 World Cup started getting close. It sucks, cat. It really does. But a phone screen isn't a substitute for a partner who will actually stand next to you when the lights come on."
Sae’s hands tighten into fists against the cold sand. Behind the pitch-black lenses of his sunglasses, his eyes burn, refusing to let go of the last remnants of the past eight years. Lorenzo’s calm logic hurts worse than Kaiser’s shouting because it feels like a final verdict.
"You don't understand," Sae says, his voice cracking slightly before he forces it flat, desperate to prove them wrong. "He wasn't just using me as a routine. He did nice things for me. He actually cared."
Kaiser lets out a sharp, irritated breath, closing his eyes like he’s practicing internal restraint, while Lorenzo just watches Sae quietly, letting him speak.
Sae starts listing them off, his voice hollowly echoing over the dark shoreline.
"When I had that grueling ankle injury during my second year in the Madrid youth academy, he called me every single hour from Lyon," Sae mutters, staring blindly at the stars. "He didn't sleep for two days straight just to keep me distracted from the pain. He researched every top sports therapist in Europe and compiled a complete rehabilitation schedule for me. It was flawless. The doctors said it saved weeks off my recovery."
"That's just a medical consultation, Sae—" Kaiser starts, but Lorenzo raises a hand to cut Kaiser off, gesturing for Sae to keep going.
"And whenever I had a terrible match and refused to speak to anyone, he knew," Sae continues, the memories tumbling out faster now. "He’d send an unsigned package to my apartment. It was always exactly what I needed—a specific brand of high-grade Japanese green tea that you couldn't even find in Spain, or a specific book on spatial awareness he knew I’d want to read. Once, when I told him casually on the phone that the winter in Madrid was depressing, a custom-made, heavy wool coat arrived at my door three days later. It fit perfectly. He knew my exact measurements without me ever telling him."
Sae swallows hard, his throat tight. "On my birthdays, he’d always write me these incredibly long, meticulous letters. They weren't filled with empty romantic fluff. He would break down my entire year of play, highlighting every single bit of my growth as a midfielder, telling me exactly why I was the only person capable of standing at the peak with him. He made me feel like I wasn't alone in Europe."
He stops, his breathing shallow, waiting for them to finally admit that Hugo wasn't the monster they were making him out to be.
Lorenzo stays quiet for a long moment, looking down at the sand between his knees. When he finally looks up at Sae, his gold teeth don't show. His expression is just incredibly heavy with pity.
"Japan boy," Lorenzo says softly, his voice cutting through the cool night air. "Everything you just listed... it's exactly what I'm talking about. Look at how he handled you."
Sae shifts his head slightly toward Lorenzo, his jaw clenching.
"He sent packages. He bought a coat. He wrote letters. He drew up a rehab schedule," Lorenzo lists them off, pointing a finger with each point. "Do you see the pattern? Every single 'nice thing' he did was something he could do from a safe distance behind a screen or through a courier. It’s all highly efficient, deeply calculated, and completely managed from afar. He took care of you like a high-maintenance asset he wanted to keep running smoothly, but he never actually had to show up and hold you while you were bleeding."
Kaiser scoffs, finally snapping back into the conversation, his voice dripping with bitter vindication. "Exactly. He bought you a coat because it takes five minutes online, Sae. But did he ever fly to Madrid to wrap it around your shoulders himself? No. Because stepping out of his little fortress required a real compromise, and the robot doesn't do compromises. You were his perfect, low-risk project."
Lorenzo tilts his head, his expression completely unreadable as he looks down at Sae. The cool night wind whips a few strands of hair across his face.
"Did he even hug you?" Lorenzo asks quietly, the question cutting straight through the sound of the crashing waves. "Like, even behind closed doors? Did you guys ever just... hold each other?"
Sae is quiet for a long moment. Behind the black lenses of his sunglasses, his eyes close tightly, the memory flashing vividly in his mind.
"A few times," Sae mutters, his voice dropping into a dull, raspy whisper. "When we actually managed to meet up. Like when I lost against Spain in the U-20 World Cup four years ago... he held me in the hotel room. Or six years ago, when I got completely depressed because my dream of becoming the world's best striker got crushed by Bunny Iglesias."
Sae lets out a ragged, hollow breath, the sand shifting beneath his fingers. "Actually... he’s the one who told me to give up on being a striker. He sat me down and told me I should be a midfielder instead. He said it was my destiny, that my analytical skills and precision suited it better. He told me fighting against my natural aptitude would only lead to useless struggle. I changed my entire life's path because of what he said that day."
Kaiser, who had been uncharacteristically quiet for a few seconds, suddenly freezes. His eyes widen in absolute, visceral disgust, and then he lets out a harsh, furious laugh that echoes dangerously across the dark beach.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Kaiser snarls, throwing his hands in the air and pacing violently away before spinning back around to glare at Sae. "He didn't just string you along, Sae—he completely re-engineered you! Don't you see what he did?!"
"Micha—" Lorenzo starts, warningly.
"No, Lorenzo, listen to the timeline!" Kaiser interrupts ruthlessly, pointing an aggressive finger at Sae. "Six years ago, you two were sixteen. You were a rising genius striker in the Madrid youth system, a massive threat to every single defender and midfielder in Europe. And what did the brilliant, calculated Vivian Hugo do? He found you at your lowest point, wrapped his arms around you, and whispered his little 'suitable destiny' poison right into your ear! He convinced the most lethal young weapon in Japan to step out of the penalty box and move into the midfield!"
Sae flinches violently, the accusation hitting him like a physical blow. "He was trying to help me—"
"He was eliminating a future rival!" Kaiser shouts back, his blue eyes flashing with a terrifying, absolute clarity. "Think about it like a football player, Sae! Hugo is a center midfielder. His entire job on the pitch is to control the game and shut down strikers. By convincing you to become a midfielder, he turned a potential nightmare opponent into a passer. He shaped your career to fit his view of the world. He hugged you when you were broken because it was the easiest way to make you compliant to his philosophy!"
Lorenzo stands completely still, his gold teeth hidden as his face hardens. He doesn't stop Kaiser this time. Instead, he looks down at Sae, his voice incredibly grave.
"Damn, Japan boy," Lorenzo says softly, the easy-going tone completely erased from his voice. "I didn't want to believe it, but Kaiser's right on the money. The guy didn't just put your relationship on a schedule—he put your entire life on his tactical board. He didn't build you up as a partner. He molded you into the perfect, non-threatening piece for his own destiny."
Sae violently yanks the black sunglasses off his face, exposing his bloodshot, burning eyes to the moonlight. For the first time all night, the cold, untouchable genius is entirely gone, replaced by a raw, defensive desperation. He glares up at Kaiser, his voice cracking with years of built-up frustration.
"You don't know anything about what my life was like back then, Michael!" Sae shouts, his chest heaving as he fights back a fresh wave of tears. "You think it was just a simple tactical choice? You think I just rolled over? I was drowning in Madrid!"
Lorenzo shifts, his quiet gaze locked onto Sae as the midfielder pours out the reality of his youth academy days.
"I was a kid from Japan dropped into the most cutthroat academy in the world," Sae says, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger and old, buried trauma. "The pressure was suffocating every single day. And it wasn't just the football. The other strikers—players like Bunny—they didn't just beat me on the pitch. They isolated me. There was constant bullying. The casual racism, the remarks in the locker room, the coaches looking the other way because I didn't 'fit the mold' of a European powerhouse striker. I spent years in a state of absolute depression, waking up every morning wondering why the hell I was even alive."
Sae points a trembling finger at his own chest. "Hugo saw me at my absolute lowest. He was the only one who didn't look at me like a threat or a target. When he told me to switch to midfield, it wasn't a trap—it was a lifeline! And look at the actual results! The moment I moved to the midfield, the suffocating weight lifted. I could breathe again. I could control the pitch from a place where their physical bullying couldn't break me. The situation got better, my career exploded, and I literally became a member of the New Generation World XI because of that change! He was right about my destiny!"
The beach goes quiet again, the heavy crashing of the waves filling the tense air.
Kaiser looks down at Sae, his furious expression softening just a fraction into something deeply grim. He doesn't yell this time. He crosses his arms, his voice dropping into a dangerously quiet, heavy tone.
"I'm not denying your trauma, Sae," Kaiser says, his blue eyes holding Sae's gaze with absolute, unyielding candor. "The Madrid academy is a meat grinder, and what those bastards did to you was vile. But you are missing the entire point."
Kaiser takes a slow breath, stepping closer. "Hugo didn't save you from the meat grinder. He just gave you a prettier cage. Yes, changing to midfield saved your sanity and made you a New Gen XI star—because you are a genius, and you would have conquered whatever position you played. But Hugo pushed you into that role because it perfectly aligned with his comfort zone. He wanted a version of Sae Itoshi that was successful, stable, and completely dependent on his worldview. He wanted a genius midfielder who would text him from Spain, not a ruthless striker who would challenge his throne in the Champions League."
Lorenzo kneels back down in the sand, right in Sae's line of sight, his face deadly serious.
"Listen to me, cat," Lorenzo says, his voice incredibly grounded. "A real partner looks at you drowning in a toxic academy and says, 'Let's fight them together, or let's get you out of there.' They don't look at your broken heart and use it to write a permanent script for your life. He fixed your problem using his math, Sae. He saw a beautiful, broken weapon and calibrated it so it would never point at him. You think he saved you, but he just managed you. And the second you wanted to rewrite the script and be a normal couple in the real world? He cancelled the show."
Sae goes completely quiet. The raw, defensive anger that had forced him to rip his sunglasses off drains away, leaving him looking hollowed out in the moonlight. His hand drops into the sand, his fingers curling loosely around the grains. He doesn't look at Kaiser, and he doesn't look at Lorenzo. He just stares at his own lap, his breathing shallow and shaky.
Eight years of a belief system—eight years of thinking he had a private, sacred sanctuary away from the cruelty of the football world—is entirely dismantling itself in his mind.
Lorenzo watches him for a long moment, the silence between them stretched thin against the sound of the tide. The defender reaches out, his large, calloused hand gently clamping onto Sae’s shoulder, anchoring him to the present.
"Hey," Lorenzo says softly, his tone completely stripped of the gold-toothed mockery he usually carries. "Look at me, cat."
Sae slowly tilts his head up, his bloodshot eyes meets Lorenzo's grounded expression.
"I get it," Lorenzo says, giving Sae's shoulder a firm, supportive squeeze. "It’s heavy. It’s incredibly hard to sit here and look back at eight years of your life and see it differently. Especially when it's Hugo. He was your boyfriend. He was the guy you called every night when the locker room got too loud or the Spanish press was ripping you apart. He was your safety net when you felt like you were drowning."
Lorenzo sighs, shaking his head slightly as he looks out at the dark Italian coastline. "But Sae... that’s just not how relationships work. A real relationship isn't a long-distance asylum where you only visit each other when you're broken. It's not a tactical agreement where one person decides what the other's 'destiny' is supposed to be from across the border."
Kaiser doesn't interrupt this time. He just stands a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes fixed on the horizon, letting Lorenzo handle the weight of the moment.
"In a real partnership," Lorenzo continues, his voice steady and calm, "you get to be messy. You get to change your mind. You get to walk down the street, buy a cheap gelato, and hold hands without it being a liability to someone's pristine image. If someone truly loves you, they don't look at your pain as a math problem to solve from a distance. They show up. They stand next to you in the dirt, and they sure as hell don't walk away the second you ask them to step out into the light with you."
Lorenzo gestures vaguely toward the road behind the beach, his hand dropping from Sae’s shoulder as he lets out a quiet, dry laugh.
"And another thing, cat," Lorenzo adds, his voice steady as he looks at Sae's exhausted face. "This whole excuse about 'protecting your focus' from the media and netizens? It’s complete garbage. Look around you."
Sae slowly blinks, his bloodshot eyes tracking Lorenzo's movements.
"Look at the rest of the football world," Lorenzo says, counting on his fingers. "Players hang out with their teams all the time. They go to dinners, they walk around cities, they live normal lives. Heck, look at me and Kaiser! I play in Italy, he plays in Spain. When we cross paths, we hang out, we banter, we take stupid photos, and does the media lose its mind? No. Because we're just people existing in the real world."
Kaiser scoffs, though there's no real heat in it this time. He just shoves his hands into his pockets and nods. "For once, the zombie makes sense. You and I are literally teammates now, Sae. We can walk right into the middle of Madrid, sit down at an outdoor cafe, and eat lunch together. People might look, sure. Someone might post a picture on a fan page. But is it going to ruin our careers? Is it going to shatter Real Madrid’s tactical foundation? No. It’s just two footballers having lunch."
Lorenzo leans in closer, his gold teeth completely hidden in the shadows. "Exactly. If you and Hugo had just gone out for a normal dinner in London or Paris, the media would have just seen two New Generation XI prodigies being friends. That’s it. It only becomes a massive, stressful government secret because he treated it like one."
Sae stares at the sand between his knees, the absolute absurdity of the past eight years hitting him in waves. He had spent nearly a decade convinced that a single public slip-up would destroy everything they had built. Hugo had made the world feel like a minefield where every camera lens was a threat.
But looking at Lorenzo—wearing a ridiculously loud shirt on a deserted beach—and Kaiser, who had willingly paused his national team training just to sit in the dirt, Sae realizes how incredibly small his world had been made.
"He made me think..." Sae’s voice cuts off, raspy and quiet. "He made me think the secrecy was the only way to keep it pure."
"Because it was the only way he could keep it under his total control," Kaiser corrects sharply, his blue eyes locking onto Sae's profile. "A lunch date means dealing with the unpredictable real world. A secret hotel room means he dictates the parameters. He didn't hide you from the media to protect your heart, Sae. He hid you so he'd never have to answer a question he hadn't already prepared for."
To be continued